Unrequited
by PrescitedEntity
Summary: [Onesided Tomoyo x Sakura, Syaoran x Sakura implied] Tomoyo confesses at last, only to find that sometimes, hopes and dreams don't come to fruition when one acts upon them. Shoujoaifemslash, of course.


A/N: Prescited Entity does shoujo-ai romangst? WUT? But really, 'twas a challenge, and I like the pairing more than Syaoran/Sakura, anyway, though admittedly not by much. Sad mush ensues.

**Unrequited**

Her name is so apt. Sakura – cherry blossom – but she's more beautiful than any flower. She's imbued with the very essence of life; it veritably bubbles in her, spilling over and gently caressing anyone she comes near. I love her as much as life itself – no, I love her because she's life embodied. She's radiant sunshine, bottled up and sparkling through a diamond of a girl.

She's my best friend, Kinomoto Sakura.

She has no idea that I love her the way I do, of the depth and romantic wishes. It's because she's adorably innocent and naïve that way. I hint at it, from time to time, subtly, only at her inadvertent prompting, but she only sees in them the caring gestures of friendship, and maybe it's easier that way, less awkward and close and chocolates and warming kisses in the cool breeze. And for the longest time, I was okay. I was okay with that, because I was closer to her than anyone but family, and how I cherished every joyful smile she sent at me! It was enough, so I waited.

I knew she had a crush on Yukito; she's an honest person whose heart is open to read, but it was a crush and nothing more. Though it hurt to see her blushing cerise at someone else, I could tell it wasn't true love, so I waited.

When the cards were released, I was ecstatic. We would be spending time together, alone, clandestine, doing things that no one else knew about. She wore the outfits without regard for the care I'd put into the choices, even expressing exasperation at times, but I was happy enough to see her wear them for me.

Then he came.

Neither of them could see it for what it was, initially, but I could see it as clear as day, it was so painfully obvious. They danced around each other, and I knew I would lose her if I didn't act, but I felt overcome with fear of rejection, of losing the close bond we had, so I waited.

It seemed that he had won her over, yet he left, and though feeling guilty as an adulteress, coveting something that wasn't mine to have, I was overjoyed. Because of his absence, the glimmer of hope fluttered its wings achingly in my chest.

We sit at the park, on a granite bench without a back, watching the willow branches sway gently in the spring zephyrs. Her gaze is distant but content, in fond reminiscence of something, or someone, but he's been gone a year, and it's been a year of yearning. I can't wait any longer. No more vagueness, no more cloud of ambiguity concealing what I feel.

"Sakura..." She turns to me, eyes refocusing.

"What is it, Tomoyo?" My voice is lodged in my throat. Dropping all the hints over the years had been so effortless, what I wanted said slipping past my lips. Now, the words – the ones that _matter_ – are like molasses, caught on my tongue, flowing painstakingly slowly, slowly.

"I..."

"Is something wrong? You look like you're coming down with a fever." Her voice is laden with concern, her expression creased with worry. She's leaning in – I'm lost in her fair face, her emerald eyes, her rose-pink lips – I'm so tempted to draw her to me and kiss her, the soft kisses of a butterfly upon a cherry blossom. I have to tell her now, before I lose resolve and back down, or lose control and lean in.

"I love you, Sakura." My outward composure and the levelness of my voice shocks me, since my heart hammers, but it makes sense – it's such a natural confession.

She says nothing, only turning away. My heartbeat rings hollowly in my chest.

"I...Sakura, I–"

"I love you too, Tomoyo. You're my best friend." As she turns around with a shy but contented smile at her lips, encircling me with her arms, my face burns. She doesn't understand, just like she never understood.

"T-that's not what I meant, Sakura." Confusion crosses her face; she lets her arms fall to her sides. No, no more misunderstandings, no matter what the ramifications. "I love you, truly and deeply."

"O-oh." Her voice is uncharacteristically small, quiet, and unsure. She tries to smile for me, and it is that wavering, sad smile – a bittersweet sight, beautiful and agonizing – that douses the embers of hope that I'd tended faithfully through all the years. Hot tears that have been held back for much too long sting at my eyes, but I'm not heartbroken – all I feel is the dull sorrow of resignation to what I had known all along. As such, I've broken my word to her; I'd said I would be happy so long as she was, but hope had given me strength to be contented – there was no hope now. I thought I'd fully accepted it, was okay with it, made my peace with not being able to call her my own, but the faint recognition in the back of my mind was nothing like seeing everything unfold in brutal reality. I rise, for the first time wanting to be anywhere but at her side.

"Tomoyo!" she calls, grasping my hand, pulling me down to her. A warm wetness stains my cheeks as I hear a mournful sob – I'm crying. Through blurred vision, I see that she must be, too, because her shoulders are shaking. When she speaks, her voice quivers.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles as she hugs me tightly, fiercely – the hug of a caring friend, one that I can't return, not now – "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, sorry, sorry..." The words trail off into barely audible sobs.

We sit on the hard stone bench until evening falls, and for once, for the first and only time, we part without so much as a wave goodbye.

I'm not waiting anymore.


End file.
